Dave and I always thought that Mount Yamnuska was for climbers/scramblers only. We were mistaken. Let me tell you—this hike was the best discovery of our entire summer.
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Canmore
Dave and I have a knack for turning an easy outing into something a little more challenging. Ask anyone (yep, you, Margaret) who has hiked with us—every trip is an adventure. Hey, it doesn’t matter if it’s a quiet walk around Canmore—take a few trail detours, and three miles can quickly turn to six.
Warspite Creek.
We were looking for a simple, scenic hike to spend a Sunday afternoon. Warspite Lake via Black Prince Cirque Interpretive checked all the boxes: easy, short, and beautiful. The out and back route was just over four miles with an elevation gain of 700 ft (220 m). A lovely, soft-padded walk through a lush spruce forest. What on earth could go astray?
Trail just before the lake.
Once at the lake, we opted to follow the trail around the lake counterclockwise to take photos and escape people milling around the entrance.
Warspite Lake
There were still frozen areas near the shoreline—unusual for late June in Kananaskis.
Lake ice.
Mount Black Prince, and Warspite, with Haig Glacier in the background.
Before long, Dave and I noticed a group who had passed us earlier was heading back. Soon after, we encountered a family trying to cross a rushing stream covered with downed trees. Dad scrambled his way across the logs to the far bank while Mom stood up to her knees in the icy water. Their kids stood silently—apparently wanting no part of it.
Nothing clear-cut here.
As Dave surveyed the situation, the parents retreated. The six-year-old glanced at her parents and then at us, exclaiming, ”This crossing is definitely for the young, nimble, and light of foot.”
Duly noted—and ignored. Dave deftly made his way across while I lumbered my way through the icy water.
No trail here.
Bushwhacking our way around the lake on a nonexistent trail covered with debris, fallen logs, and water was a bit unnerving initially but ultimately satisfying.
Bushwacking.
Once through the bog, the lakeshore became easier to navigate. The craggy white rocks surrounding this portion of the lake hosted several family picnics.
Heading back, we crossed paths with an outgoing spruce grouse.
It was an excellent way to spend a Sunday afternoon—detours included.
It was time. Two and a half years had passed since we traveled to our home away from home in the Canadian Rockies. With Covid running rampant and borders closed, everyone lived in isolation. Traveling was a risk, not an entitlement. So Dave and I (along with millions of others) buckled down and made the most of it. However, when the border opened last fall, there was no question about where we would spend our next summer.
It was September 26th, and snow was in the forecast. Not a dusting of snow, mind you, a full-fledged blizzard. Just our luck— we were departing on the 29th, before sunrise. Maybe it won’t stick, I thought hopefully. Think again.
Seasons change so quickly here. Everything seems accelerated. This past summer has been chilly and inclement, with hints of an upcoming winter competing with fall.
This iconic mountain has an illustrious past that hails back to the mining days of the late 1800s. As the story goes, in 1896, a cook for the Canadian Pacific Railway was bet fifty bucks that he could not summit the Beehive in less than ten hours. He was to plant a flag at the top as proof of his effort. Evidently, they didn’t know how capable Ha Ling was. He left at 7am that Saturday and was back in time for lunch.
In the mid-1980s, Canmore was a sleepy little mountain town in the midst of recreating itself, following the closure of its last remaining coal mine. It was an exciting time. However, it was rumored that the action of one unnamed Canmorite would forever change the landscape of this small town.
The Three Sisters are synonymous with Canmore. Originally named The Three Nuns in 1883, it has been said that George Stewart (the first superintendent of the Rocky Mountains National Park) named the peaks after his three daughters, Frances, Olive, and Grace. The Stoney Nakoda also views these peaks as the three sisters, referring to the story of Ĩ-ktomnĩ, an old man who would promise his three sisters in marriage whenever he got into trouble.
Dave and I love the Dorrien Smith/Spray Lake Trail. We love to take our friends up the narrow, unpaved road, through all its twists, turns, and drop-offs—just to scare the crap out of them. You can always tell if someone has been there by their white, dust-encrusted vehicle. A right of passage, at least until the next rain.
Headwall Lake is usually a forgotten hike. It shares the parking lot with the premier Chester Lake trail and doesn’t get star billing. In fact, it gets no billing. Push those thoughts aside—this 10-mile hike weaves through multiple terrain, on its way up to some pretty spectacular views.
Canada Day in Canmore is a joyous event. Every year, the town swells from 14,000 to well over 20,000. On July 1st, families crowd the streets to view marching bands, campy floats, olympic athletes on ski-skates and Calgary Stampede dignitaries. Squirt guns are almost mandatory. This year, we decided to change it up.
Opportunities are like sunrises. If you wait too long, you miss them.—William Arthur Ward
Our reason for hiking the Grassi Lakes circuit was two-fold. A family of owls was known to be nesting in the cliffs above the lake and it was a beautiful day. With that in mind, Dave loaded up his camera gear and we set off on a photo safari.
Lower Grassi Lake
If there is one hike that appeals to all ages and levels of endurance, Grassi Lakes is it. The trail is about 2.7 miles roundtrip and offers an easy path (service road) and a not so easy path (along the edge) to the top. The lakes, waterfalls and a nearby mountain was named after Italian immigrant Lawrence Grassi—a miner, hiker, climber and master trail-builder. The trail was built by Grassi back in 1918, during a miner’s strike. He went on to build the Oesa trail at Lake O’Hara along with many others. A solitary man, he lived in an ivy-covered cabin by the Grassi trailhead, until his move to Bow Valley Regional Housing, where he lived to the ripe old age of 90.
Lower Grassi Lake.
As with most hikes around here, It pays to be early. We had both lakes mostly to ourselves for at least 45 minutes.
Lower Grassi Lake.
This hike never gets old. Reflections and jewel-like hues were magnified by the early morning light. The clarity was amazing. So much color in such an attainable venue—I can see why Grassi loved it so.
Upper Grassi Lake, looking for owls.
Nothing here but rocks…..
We headed to the upper lake was where the owls nest was located—a craggy cave nestled a steep rock face. Dave swiftly set up the camera and try-pod. He zoomed in and….NOTHING. Wait, wasn’t that the owl on the side of the cave? Nope, it was a ROCK. Dang. Our neighbors had seen them the week before, but for us, it was not to be.
We shrugged it off and continued down the mountain on the cliff side. This was Grassi’s original trail, consisting of steep stairways, flowing creeks, large smooth boulders and spectacular views..
We crept out on a narrow pathway off the main trail to get a closer look of the falls. So worth it.
We may have missed the owls that day, but that only gives us another reason to return.
Homeward bound.
It’s time for change. Familiar places, new beginnings. Our May departure crept up quickly. No matter what happens, this summer is going to be different.
On the road with Dota.
It was time. Dota loved being our one and only, but with that came the anxiety of being alone. A new italian greyhound pup was in the works for October, but fate managed to get in the way. We received a email in April from Stephanie and Avery Mcleod of Alfheim Hounds to let us know that a little blue and white pup was available. Oh, and that she was just what we were hoping for.
Wait…should we take a 14-week-old puppy to Canada for the summer?
Lucia
Note to self, if you are not sure, DO NOT LOOK AT THE PHOTO. Nearly impossible to do, I know. Everyone loves a puppy, especially if she is the perfect match. Who could refuse? Not us. So, we took a 1,000 mile detour to Clearview, WA to pick up Lucia (a.k.a. Luci), the newest addition to our canine family.
Somewhere in western Idaho.
Sprague, Washington
Three 12-hour days of driving. Along the way we saw elk, antelope, a coyote, and a couple of black bears. Luci joined Dota for the final day of our journey. They were real troopers. That in itself was amazing. We arrived in Canmore by mid-afternoon, exhausted, but no worse for wear.
Almost there! East Kootenay, B.C.
It is still cold and rainy/snowy here, with the prospect of better weather in early June. When the sun did come out, Dave and I took advantage of it with a hike into town. There is still snow on the ground in some areas and ice in the river.
Bow River, with Cascade Mountain in the background.
Neighborhood elk.
We also managed to take a small hike near Barrier Lake, and drive down Spray Lake Road to check things out. A lot of the trails here do not open until mid to late June.
Barrier Lake.
Barrier Lake, Kananaskis.
Spray Lake.
But signs of spring’s emergence are everywhere and rainfall really is a good thing.
One week in and no complaints. Dota has tolerated Luci quite well. In fact, she has become a bit of a pup herself, much to our chagrin. But, as in the weather, the promise of better days to come is always with us.
Let the adventure begin!
Why do Canadians call the U.S. their southern neighbors? In Mexico, are we their northern neighbors? Hmmmm. I guess it is all relative to where one lives. A random thought.
Show-off.
Just as the geese fly, so do we. The last week before we hit the road is always a happy/sad occasion. It is important to keep busy. Meals consist of creative use of whatever is left in the fridge, along with figuring out what to take and what to leave.
The fall colors are beautiful here, as I imagine Flagstaff’s colors will be. Driving to Arizona will be like going back in time—from winter to fall, to summer. So weird.
Dota surveys her kingdom
Quarry Lake
Last week, the weather gods decided to smile upon us. We walked to town one day and then took Dota and Puccini to the “big boy” dog park. The aspens and larches were at their peak. Snow was melting and a sense of fall filled the air.
Ha Ling Peak
Spray Lake Moose
Later in the week we took a drive down Spray Lake Road to revisit Sparrowhawk Tarns for a fossil hunt. That morning turned into a wild moose chase of sorts (hahaha). After spotting a moose by the water’s edge at Spray Lake, we pulled over to investigate. Circling back, we patiently waited for the moose to cross in front of us. Unfortunately, when he finally did, he was in the shade.
Dave and I reached the Sparrowhawk trailhead around noon and hiked up to the giant rocks and scree to look at fossils. Strong winds and low temperatures cut our stay a little short, but all in all it was the perfect last hike of the season.
Sparrowhawk Trail rockslide
Lichen
Grizzly tracks
As our week winds down, the snow starts falling. We have seen several deer eating berries around our townhome, as well as a lot evidence of bear activity (tracks and poop). They are no doubt doing a bit of last minute preparation as winter approaches.
I’m beginning to realize how nice it will be to see an Arizona sunset, and once again rediscover the beauty of the Sonoran desert. Aww, look at me, waxing nostalgic. Ask me in a week or so to see if I still feel the same way.
Happy Trails, Alberta.
“But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.” ― Stephen King, Salem's Lot
Seasons change quickly up here in the Canadian Rockies. The temperature drops and is slow to return. Soon it will be time to trade in the hiking shoes for cross-country skis and heavy boots. But not quite yet.
Rummel Lake Trail, Spray Valley Provincial Park
We managed to get in a hike that we were hoping to do late last week. The Rummel Lake Trail had a bear closure two days prior, then miraculously reopened. Splendid. It was raining the day of our hike, with about a 30% chance forecast throughout the day. We decided to take our chances, bundled up and headed out to Spray Lake Provincial Park. The rough, loose gravel road was blessedly clear of dust, settled from the rain. Our hike was about 9km (5.6mi) roundtrip, with a gradual elevation gain of about 427m (1,400 ft). It intersected with the High Rockies mountain bike trail and had a viewpoint overlooking the entire valley. The fall colors were just beginning, with the occasional lone aspen showing off it’s golden hue.
Spray Lake, from the bench on Rummel Lake Trail
About two-thirds of the way up, it started to drizzle. Then, it rained. Big, heavy, cold drops, freezing hands—you get the idea. The rain jackets came out, and we trudged up the trail, heads down, hoping the lake was just around the corner. Eventually it was, and it was spectacular.
Rummel Lake
Mt. Galatea
It was not conducive for peanut butter sandwiches, however. As Dave and I explored the trail up to a meadow, the rain stopped and the skies started to clear. Heading back, we took some additional photos of the lake, now sunny and as smooth as glass. The Spray Valley was dappled with sunlight.
Rummel Lake, after the rain
Rummel Lake
Towards the end of our adventure, we passed hikers in tank tops, who quizzically looked at us in our rain gear as if we were from another planet.
Post rain, Rummel Lake Trail
When I think back, what seemed really strange that day was that a half dozen spruce grouse were so busy feeding that they completely ignored us and wouldn’t give way of the trail.
Do they know something we don’t know?
What is the purpose of living in a beautiful place like Canmore if you can't share it with others?
This past summer was epic in terms of guests. Karen and Joe, Margaret, Curtis and Nancy, Bob and Suzanne, and Dad and Nona made the trip up to spend time in one of the most beautiful places in the world. We ran the visual gamut, from quintessential Lake Louise and Moraine Lake, to much smaller venues (which btw, were every bit as stunning) such as Wind Ridge Pass, Chester Lake, Grassi Lakes, and the Spray Lake Trail. K-Country provided a scenic drives with hikes around Upper Kananaskis Lake, as well as a trip to Rawson Lake.
From left: Karen, Dave and Joe on the bridge over Bow River, Canmore; Margaret lunching at Rawson Lake
Dave, Curtis and Nancy at Upper Kananaskis Lake, K-Country
Bob and Suzanne at Lake Louise, Banff National Park
Dad and Nona, Upper Kananaskis Lake, K-Country
But all in all, I have to admit that one of the best moments of the summer was when Dad joined us for the West Wind Pass hike. This hike is eight miles long, steep and arduous. Side note: Why is it, that I always seem to blank out the difficult parts of hikes? And, why is it that when we tell Nona we'll meet her for lunch, our escapades always seem to take the entire day? Thankfully, Dad was a true man of the mountains, steadily hiking upwards to scenery reminiscent of The Sound of Music. Oh, and did I mention that he is 85? What the hell were we thinking? Were we thinking?
Dad, on his way up to the pass.
Dad, Suzanne and Bob near the top.
Dave, Dad and I enjoying the view.
Was it worth it? You would have to ask my Dad. However, I think that the look of sheer delight on his face said it all. He crushed it.
As summer winds down, so do the fires. We have been blessed with clear skies and the opportunity to explore a bit more before we head south, like the geese. Memories of this summer have made me realize that sharing what we love with those we love is the gift that keeps on giving.
Once a designer, always a designer. There is not a day that goes by that I don't find myself matching miscellaneous items to Pantone swatches. Dave humors my obsession. With that in mind, I thought it was high time to share some of what we love about our summer home.
POOP Bags. Wow, how often do you see a poop bag personalized with the Canmore town logo? My friend Katherine, took a few of these bags back to Phoenix as a souvenir. Bag stands and disposal receptacles are discreetly placed throughout the townsite. No excuses for not cleaning up after pooch.
Roller Skiers. I was so enamored by these athletes that Dave and I went to the Nordic Center to see if I could purchase some skis to join in. The guy at the shop looked at me and said, “You know, these don't have brakes.” He followed up by saying, “Sorry, I really can’t sell these to you in good faith.” Enough said.
Cross-country skiers summer workout
Neighborhood Deer and Elk. Walking the pups never seems to be boring.
Canmore Bunnies
Feral Bunnies. Canmore has been battling these “wascally rabbits” since the '80s. I tend to side with Ken Anderson, who has lived in Canmore for 28 years. He says, “It makes it sort of a cute, cuddly little place to live.“ https://bit.ly/2AJdA6p
Sewer Covers. That’s right, it’s the logo again. Such a nice touch, don’t you think?
Wildlife Crossings. Did you know that Banff National Park has the largest number of wild life crossing structures in the world? From 1996-2012, over 180,000 passages were recorded. The Elk were the first animals to cross. Bears are slow to learn, taking years to use them. https://bit.ly/2M2pU6s
Wildlife crossing structure in Banff National Park
Quarry Lake Dog Park. Canmorites love their dogs. This park is outrageous. No fences, paths everywhere, acres and acres (hectares!) to roam and a lovely lake to splash in.
The Big Head, Alan Henderson
I would be remiss in not mentioning a Canmore icon —The Big Head. Alberta artist Alan Henderson built a sculpture for the town using it’s name for inspiration. In Gaelic, Ceannmore (Canmore) means “big head,” so that’s exactly what Henderson produced. The community loves to accessorize it for different occasions. The giant head has been seen sporting a graduation cap, a winter toque, and a summer pirate hat. https://bit.ly/2M2LmrH
No matter how large or small, quirky or different, we love this place.
It was not a UFO. But it sure looked ominous. Lenticular clouds are not uncommon in the Rockies. They develop when air moves over the mountains and cools down to the point that condensation occurs. These clouds are different because they don’t move–the passage of air just reforms them again and again.
Lenticular cloud over Three Sisters.
South Shore Bylot Island, Lawren Harris, 1931
But, I digress. The evening storm front turned into a morning full of visual beauty—the kind of landscapes that artists can only dream about. The stuff of Lawrence Harris paintings. And thanks to Dave’s birthday tee-time of 7:10 am, we were able experience it firsthand. I think my canvas is calling.
Three Sisters Parkway
God's Light, Canmore, AB
Three Sisters
Canmore Golf and Curling Club, Canmore, AB Happy Birthday Dave!
Canmore Golf and Curling Club, Canmore, AB
Grotto Mountain, Canmore, AB
When we do our urban hikes, there is usually a reason behind it. Something to see, a Rocky Mountain Outlook to pick up, or a cappuccino to savor at the end of the trail.
Last week, we hiked downtown to the first Farmers Market of the season. The weather was gorgeous, and well worth documenting. Checked on the wild rhubarb, which I scout with a vengeance. I love to make anything rhubarb – and scavenging for it makes it that much more special.
The trail into downtown Canmore from Three Sisters.
The produce at the market was fresh and delicious. We bought a locally-made elderflower syrup to experiment with. White wine, club soda, and a splash of elderflower syrup…..yes, please.
The reward this week could not be purchased or eaten. Upon our return home, we were treated to a herd of female elk, nestled in the woods just off the trail. Several were quite pregnant, lounging in the shade of the tall trees. Totally worth the trip. Let’s do it again next week.
Where’s Waldo?
Our transition from the desert to the mountains is a usually a quick one. We jump in with both feet. This past week was full of firsts—some traditional, and some not so…
It seems like we brought the heat with us again this year. We were greeted with temps near 30°c, but fortunately, it didn’t last. Our first walk into town was on a rainy, gusty, Oooooh. Clouds. This was the first real rain we had seen since late last year. The icing on the cake seeing our first elk!
Downtown Canmore
The Grizzly Paw Pub
The Grizzly Paw on Main St. in Canmore has been a first stop tradition of ours for close to 20 years. There is nothing better than an order of poutine, a pint of Big Herd Nut Brown, and another pint of Buffalo Stout. Welcome home.
Barrier Lake Trail
The Barrier Lake Trail was our first real hike of the season. One BIG uphill, with a beautiful payoff. Someday, I will ride my mountain bike up that one. NOT GONNA HAPPEN.
Lastly, one of the most joyous firsts of the week was to discover the new dog park by our home. Dota and Puccini have never experienced the real freedom of running free.. It is so wonderful to see them running, sniffing, and exploring on their own. Go lil’ mountain dogs, go.
Free to run.
Dota takes a stand.